


Easy Prey

by Jassanja



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: A/B/O, Fandom Mix, M/M, Multi, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jassanja/pseuds/Jassanja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry I couldn't write straight up Tennis a/b/o. I tried but kept failing. Then got this idea when watching this years Swiss Sport Awards. Also I saw that a couple of Swiss athletes were nominated for Yuletide</p></blockquote>





	Easy Prey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halotolerant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halotolerant/gifts).



Roger felt his heat come up at one of the most unfortunate moments.

He was in the back of a stretch limousine on his way to the Swiss Sports Awards, and his usual alpha, Stan, was nowhere near close.

There were a couple of reasons for that. On one hand they didn't want their relationship to be public knowledge And on the other hand was the fact that Stan had once again been overlooked when it had come to nominations. This was frustrating to a point where Stan was in no way inclined to even think of attending the show.

It wasn’t like Stan could have helped Roger right away by fucking him through the waves of need, but his simple presence would have helped.

Roger’s hands clawed down into the leather upholstery, as the limo turned off Hardbrücke and onto the area of Maag Hall, where the show was to take place.

Fans were standing to one side of the entrance as the car came to a stop. On the other side was the red carpe, and the cameras, both from photographers and from the TV station broadcasting the show.

Roger took one last deep breath. At an unguarded moment in the last minutes his fingers had found their way into his pants and to his opening, as he only realized now. He was sopping wet, and had already stretched himself a good deal in preparation for a cock he wouldn't get to feel hours yet. With a whimper he pulled his fingers out of himself and cleaned them on the inside of his suit pants, hoping not to leave any visible stains. He could do this. He had to. He could fight big matches, so he sure could fight off his heat for a couple hours.

A valet opened the door of his car, and he heaved himself out of the limo.

Big cheers and whoops went up from the crowd once they realized that it was the nations absolute darling that had just arrived. He hadn't always come even when he was nominated, so they were doubly happy this time around, and would probably tell their children about this evening. Just imagine the disappointment, and in some cases outrage, if he ran back to the car before the show was over, just because he couldn't stand his need anymore and had to lock himself away with his alpha. 

Of course he could not just tell them of his problem. He wouldn't be the darling of the nation for much longer if they knew. He'd be the nations biggest laugh if it ever came out to the public that he was an omega.

Big sport stars were all supposed to be alpha. That was how it was supposed to be. The best, the strongest, the most powerful. Not words you associated with an omega. He was a freak of nature. And not just in a good way, like he was on the court.

He stood tall and proud despite his urge to duck and run. He lifted his hand up high and waved to the fans, instead of sticking it down his pants to squeeze his aching cock or finger his hungry opening.

He even managed to keep his hands in a decent position as he turned, because he knew that now he was in full view of the cameras. He just hoped, that they would not show his full body, there was no way he could hide the bulge in his pants. He didn't need any headlines the next day about him getting off on award ceremonies.

He managed a few polite words to the people from the show, while marching along the red carpet, but he didn't dare to stop and fully engage in a conversation. Roger managed to keep something close to calm until he got to the lobby.

As he entered he was hit with a wall of pheromones coming from all the gathered alphas having drinks and chatting before the show.

He whimpered helplessly. Partly from lust, partly because he knew that they would be able to smell him too. Not only was his secret gone, but they would also know that he was easy prey.

He tried to stay close to the wall, but it was useless. It was normal that people would look in his direction and murmur, but today it was different. Today they didn’t just point out that Roger Federer was here, today he also heard murmurs of “omega” and “heat” pick up quickly and spreading like a wild fire.

It took less than two minutes for the first alpha to seek him out.

Rodger could remember the first time the snowboarder Iouri Podladtchikov had approached him. Pretending not to be as nervous as he was, looking unsure and a head shorter. This time it was Roger's turn to feel small and vulnerable as IPod swaggered toward him, his position as the alpha leaving no doubt that he was allowed to talk to Roger. 

“You need help there, baby?” he asked without any word of welcome, putting his hand out to touch Roger’s hair.

Roger swallowed driely. “No, thanks, I am fine!”

“You don’t smell fine, you smell unclaimed. Must be very uncomfortable. I just want to help you.” He moved closer, pressing up against Roger, letting him feel his body heat.

“I will be fine, I promise, I can survive this.” Roger whispered, not feeling the truth behind his words at all.

“Sure you can, baby” Iouri said with little conviction, before he leaned in and licked over Roger’s neck. "But why bother with denying yourself the fun? And the pleasure!" 

Roger moaned low in desperation, but shook his head.

“If you change your mind, baby, come find me.”

Roger sacked back against the wall as Iouri walked away.

This had been hard. Of course he had wanted nothing more than to give in, than to let the alpha claim him.

He was incredibly wet now, leaking like crazy. Front and back. It could only be a matter of time, until the wet spots would also be visible in his grey suit pants.

He wanted to check, but he knew that the moment he would touch himself, he would not be able to take his hands off again.

He wondered if he could get off quickly in the bathroom, but just as he wanted to push himself off of the wall, a bell rang. All the nominated athletes needed to get into position, as the show was about to start.

The space behind the stage was very narrow and crowded as well as dark. Roger couldn’t put any faces to the hands that reached out and caressed his butt or gave his cock a squeeze. But those hands were there, and they belonged to more than one person.

Minutes seemed to turn into hours, and finally the music came, and the athletes were asked to join the hosts at on the stage as the show began.

As dark as the back was, the brighter were the lights when he stood on stage. And he got to see even less as he was overwhelmed by another wave of the heat overcoming him just then.

His fingernails bit into the palm of his hand, as he tried as good as he could not to look like anything was wrong with him, as he stood there, knowing that it all was going out on live tv.

Finally he got to leave the stage again, at least for now.

The athletes were guided to some sort of green room to the side of the stage, until the first part of the votes were counted and they were to join the hosts again on stage. Roger sat down on a bench that was as far from the entrance as possible.

There were some young ski starlets nervously scrambling around in the front part of the room, worrying over makeup and the perfect fit of their evening gowns, distracting most of the people. But still he dared not to take the deep breath he so desperately needed. Even with all those women in the room, there was still too much alpha masculinity around him. He needed to calm down if he didn’t plan on losing it, as it was certain, that he would be called out in front of the cameras again, once the final part of the voting for athlete of the year began.

“Lara is complaining again,” a familiar voice said to him, as Didier Cuche sat down next to Roger. “Still thinks that coming from the Italian part of the country is the reason she has never won.”

“She needs to win more races…” Roger pressed out, attempting to hold a casual conversation, with someone he had something close to a friendship. He had to managed that at least once.

“Yes, a couple of second and third places isn’t enough. And the Swiss don’t want a showgirl, they will vote for someone they can relate to. That’s the real reason she won’t win the title again tonight, not imaginary racism toward the south of the country.”

Roger didn’t know why he was dragged into this conversation about ski antics. Certainly not so Didier could remind him of his victory over Roger a couple years ago, when the public voted against him, just because he had moved to a village with a lesser tax load.

And it couldn’t be because Didier was oblivious to his state. He could smell that the Didier was another alpha, and yet hadn’t tried to touch him once. There was only one explanation.

“Are you trying to distract me?” he asked before Didier could make any more small talk.

“I am, “ Didier agreed.

“You don’t need to pity me.”

“I don’t pity you. I just understand how hard this situation must be for you tonight. Do you have an alpha taking care of you?”

“I do!”

“Good. I may not understand why he let you out of the house alone in a state like this, but it’s not my business.”

“It happened suddenly. It’s not my time. I think, he does not even know yet, that I’m in heat, I have not sent him a text.”

“Ah, heat set on by nerves!” The older man nodded. “If you want to stay at my side for the rest of the evening, you are welcome to do so. The young ones will not bother you if it looks like you have chosen an alpha for tonight.”

“What do you want from me in exchange?” Roger asked carefully.

“Nothing! We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“You want to protect me tonight, but you won’t nothing in exchange? No fucking, no sucking, no money?”

Didier smiled ruefully. “I don’t want anything of that, unless you want to offer it.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “Don’t get me wrong, you smell delicious right now, and it takes all my strength to make this offer without asking for anything, and I would not do it, if you were somebody else, and not a good friend over the years.”

“Stay with me!” Roger agreed. 

Didier sat down next to him, and put his hand on Roger’s knee. it was both a signal to those men starring at him hungry, as well as a good way to calm an overheated omega down in a situation he couldn’t be mounted right away. Any touching of course would calm down, but that was the most accepted in public.

On the stage the hosts of the show announced the women who had gotten enough votes to move on to the final round, and the green room cleared out a bit.

Roger was sitting on the bench with his eyes closed and his head leaned back against the wall.

He was feeling fine for the moment. A bit to his side he could hear Stephane Lambiel and Steve Guerdat chat in French. if he didn’t listen too closely, it could be the nonsense Stan sometimes mumbled, and that illusion helped too.

Suddenly he was unsettled again as another hand landed on his other knee, not just giving him contact, but actually pressing between his legs, wandering up.

He opened his eyes, and saw that Fabian Cancellara had sat down to his other side.

“Hey!” the cycler said in a breathy voice.

“What are you doing,” Didier asked, irritated.

“Just giving Roger a helping hand.”

“He doesn’t need that! He doesn’t need you.” Didier all but growled.

But Fabian’s hand was already squeezing Roger’s cock, and he was fast losing all will to protest.

“Let him,” he said between moans. “I want him to touch me.”

“If you say so,” Didier gave in, but moved away a bit. Roger didn’t notice; as he was too busy wriggling around to give Fabian better access.

“Shame I can’t fill your hole right now,” Fabian’s breath was hot and moist against Roger’s ear as he kept working Roger’s cock through his pants. “I bet you would love that.”

“Yes, oh yes, I would. I need it so bad.”

“Perhaps I can give it to you later!”

“Got … an … alpha!”

“Of course you do, but perhaps we can arrange something?” He took Roger’s hand and put it in his own lap. “Feel how swollen my knot already is? Admit it, you want to feel it in you.”

And he did admit it. He admitted that it was big, and that he wanted it, and while doing so he came right into his pants.

“Good boy,” Fabian cooed in his ear, his fingers tracing the clearly visible stain.

Before there was any chance to clean up, the male athletes were called to the stage for the announcement of the final round. 

So there he was, having lost to his heat, and to an alpha he hadn’t chosen, and only seconds from now, everybody would see his shame. But he was still Roger Federer, god of tennis.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I couldn't write straight up Tennis a/b/o. I tried but kept failing. Then got this idea when watching this years Swiss Sport Awards. Also I saw that a couple of Swiss athletes were nominated for Yuletide


End file.
